


Overcome

by cellabrations



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt!Frank, M/M, Not!Fic, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellabrations/pseuds/cellabrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 times Frank Iero is used, and the 1 time someone truly loves him.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: this fic is kind of a mix between a regular one-shot and a not!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcome

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS FROM FRANK'S POINT OF VIEW!!! I realize that I didn't use his name at any point so sorry? But I haven't written in a while and this is the best that I came up with haha. Let me know what you think!! Comments are much appreciated <3

                Jonas was never the problem. It was always all about me: about, how I couldn’t handle simple tasks, or how I couldn’t take a joke. I was always the problem. And problems are supposed to be fixed, right? Yeah, I tried so hard to change myself for him. Jonas was who I wanted to impress above everyone. Before I did any simple task, I always had to think to myself about what Jonas would think of me. He made me tell him everything I did throughout the day. I always liked to hope that it was because he genuinely cared about my day, but the voice of reason in the back of my mind knew that it was because he was always so paranoid about my non-existent infidelity. He yelled all the time about stupid shit like unfaithfulness, but couldn’t he fucking tell that I loved him? Because I did! He was the only person that decided that I was worth the time of day…

                Yeah, that was the ignorant voice in my head talking. How did I even know what love was? Jonas yelled at me all of the time, until I cried, and he blamed me for being manipulative. It was kind of ridiculous…it was extremely fucking ridiculous. I couldn’t ever try to convince him that nothing was going on, because he was always suspicious. And I think he just liked to yell about nothing.

                But that fact that he was always so obsessive just made me surprised when I woke up one morning, and found a note on the kitchen counter saying some bullshit about how, “this relationship wasn’t working out,” “I couldn’t stand the tension between us anymore,” and “the manipulative acts you pulled on me were out of hand.” It also made me surprised about how I cried so fucking much that he left. Maybe it was because he was the first real relationship I had ever had? But, whatever. It was ridiculous. I tried to move on, and I pretended that his yelling tone wasn’t always ringing in my ear. I pretended that I didn’t get slightly nervous when someone raised their voice.

                As always, life moved on, and so I had to move on as well. There wasn’t any point in dwelling in the past. There wasn’t any point in wishing Jonas would come back so that I could apologize… which was kind of bullshit, because I knew that I had nothing to apologize for anyway.

                And then I met Chuck. He came out of the blue, when I was running through the park one day, and I had passed his slow jog. He caught up to me and complimented how fast I was. I responded with something witty and sarcastic, and his eyes crinkled up as he laughed at the joke, giving me a warm feeling in my chest. I remember him telling me, “Race you to the dock?” and both of us had taken off. He beat me, of course, and decided that I must then have to go on a date with him. I agreed.

                Everything took off from there. We had a quick shag after the date at his apartment, and it left me feeling uncomfortable. He wouldn’t relent on texting me, though, and I begrudgingly agreed to go on multiple dates with him afterward. I don’t remember the first time it happened, but it was at my house when I told him I didn’t feel like fucking that night, and he got angry and decided that I wasn’t allowed to make all of the decisions. So, he yanked me to the bed and put his hand over my mouth as he rutted into me. As soon as he finished, I wrenched on my clothes, moved houses, changed my phone number, and never saw Chuck again.

                Last came Oliver. He was definitely a lion dressed like a lamb. He played for the county orchestra, which was how we met, after I saw him perform a solo in a park of some celestial song about the stars on his cello. We hit it off immediately, and he gently held my hand as we went on our first date. I truly thought that he was the one, he always was sweet and kind and bought me roses to fill my apartment with. Three months in, and I acted like I wasn’t about to have a panic attack when he pinned my hands above my head the first time we made love.

                He was the first person I told about my previous disastrous relationships, and he held me close and told me that he would never do such things. And sure, he never did, but the first time he emotionally manipulated me, I didn’t even pick up on the fact that he had done it. And I didn’t pick it up the next thousand times he did it, either. By the end of two years, I was made to believe that _I_ had hurt _him_ , and that I was always doing something wrong. My head was all fucked up, and I couldn’t think straight.

                I left Oliver with the thought that I was doing it to make sure that _he_  was happy, but one week alone helped me to realize what a fucking hole he had dug for me. I moved across the country, got a new phone, and decided that relationships were so fucking overrated.

                Until I met…Gerard. The little fuck wouldn’t leave me alone, and he was always in my ear about comic books, D&D games, and Black Flag. I don’t even know where he came from, but I could tell from his constant appearances that he wasn’t going anywhere.

                “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I had snapped at him the first time he came up to bother me.

                He had shrugged and responded with, “I like talking to you.”

                I had rolled my eyes and continued to let him chew my ear off about Grant Morrison this, and Joy Division that. It only took me about a month to realize that it was nice to have a presence around me. The constant noise of Gerard’s voice was enough to make me remember that I was still sane, and not losing myself in my own head.

                Which was why I was surprised when he suddenly disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered it. Heaving a great, metaphorical sigh, I knew that I had to go look for this guy. Although I didn’t like his company at first, it became nice to know that someone wanted to be invested with my time. It only took me about three days until I found him hanging out in some shady coffee shop. He was sitting in the back, engrossed in a notebook that he was writing in.

                As I slid across from him in the booth, his eyes shot up, and he gave me a half smile. “How did you even find me?”

                “It’s a small town,” I said.

                “Why did you come looking for me?” he asked, closing his notebook and shoving it to the side.

                “Why did you stop hanging around?” I asked.

                “I told my brother about you.” He looked nervous, suddenly. “I told him that you’d moved in next to me, and I thought we could be friends…but he said that I should give you some space. I mean, yeah, I guess I could’ve taken a hint.” His voice got almost inaudible, and he started picking at a loose piece of wood on the table. “You never really responded much when I talked. I thought I was annoying you.”

                I gave him a small smile. “I liked listening to you talk.”

                Gerard looked up, and returned the smile. “Really?”

                I grabbed his hand that was still picking at the table, and I nodded.

                So, relationships really fucking suck. People used me, and they abused me, and they left me for dead. But then, one day, I met Gerard. His crinkly eyes, his small teeth, his greasy hair, and his girlish voice was enough to drag me in, and I couldn’t ever get enough. This was what love is supposed to be like. And as I go to bed every night and wake up with Gerard drooling onto my shirt and lying half on top of me, I know that going through so much fucking pain was worth it so I could meet him in the end. Nothing could ever compare to this, and nothing ever will. I had finally found out what true happiness and love was supposed to feel like.


End file.
